Wow, I'm really burning through this story. Two chapters in one day! BTW, I'm looking for suggestions as to improve my writing. Please feel free to criticize something that doesn't seem right. I am so grateful to everyone who's reviewed.


She wheeled around, splashing water everywhere.

"What did you say?!"

Danea was poised, comb in mid-air.

"You are to wed the Lord Hades today. You will be our Queen!"

Persephone briefly considered fleeing; the urge was nearly overwhelming to run. Just run, until her legs could not carry her anymore. But…this was the Underworld. None truly escaped death.

"But…but I am no Queen! And I despise Hades!" her voice was ragged, desperate.

Danea's smile melted. "If you truly knew him, you would not despise him. And if you truly knew yourself, you would recognize your own strength. You could be our Queen, if you wanted it to be so."

Danea sighed deeply, putting the comb down. "Please, my Lady. If he wants you for his bride he will have you. But he is a good man.

Persephone suddenly felt ashamed of herself.

"He was good to you, truly…but he's treated me terribly. Plucked me away from my home to…to…"

Persephone sunk into the hot water up to her neck.

"Why is this happening to me?" She was crying again, but she didn't care. "I have committed no offense against the gods. Why has Zeus not come to my aid?"

Danea took her elbow and guided her out of the spring.

"I cannot tell you the reasoning of the gods. I know even less of it than you do. Have you never been to Mt. Olympus?"

"Never. Mother would never let me meet the other gods."

Danea put a robe around her.

"Never mind. Come, Lady." She led her away, trying to make her voice cheerful again.

"…You will look so beautiful…"


Upstairs, past the Hall, deep within his dark palace, the Lord of the Dead was making his own preparations.

More accurately, he paced. Had been pacing for quite some time. Then, turning sharply on his heel, he stood again before his polished obsidian mirror.

He did not much like his brothers, who were well-loved by women. Zeus and Poseidon had the gold hair of their father, whereas Hades had his mother's dark hair. He had always preferred to be clean-shaven, unlike his brothers. He was also slightly shorter, and also leaner, not as stocky.

These things were not their only dissimilarities. He had never believed that in drawing the shortest straw he had chosen the Underworld. No, the Underworld had chosen him, because of this difference.

He had no feelings of competition or jealousy with his brothers, and he did not truly envy them their realms, nor their women.

No, this woman was enough for him. She was the only one he would pursue. If she would ultimately reject him, if that was the will of the Fates, if she would die…

No, he did not envy his brothers. But he wished he had their charm, their appeal.

Hades inhaled deeply and blew the breath out through his nose.

He had washed his hair, and it hung thick and glossy and black to his shoulders. He had polished his boots, and had procured a red silk tunic.

It will match her gift, he reflected, running a nervous hand through his hair. From the rock near the surface, he had plucked amber, the deepest red he could find. Each stone contained once-living matter, leaves, tiny flowers, even insects. He knew that she must miss such things.

Hades took another deep breath, and kept pacing. Downstairs, everything was ready. Perfect, even.

Now all he could do was wait.


The gown Danea retrieved from Persephone's closet was deep crimson. It fit perfectly, hugging her curves but not constricting her. The neckline was deep enough to highlight her bosom, but still tasteful. The sleeves came to just below her wrists, and the hem down to the ground. At least she would be warm.

Danea was now drying her hair with a cloth and still working to comb out it's considerable length.

Persephone had never looked like this. She was used to her hair being tangled from runs in the forests, and her clothes dirty from sleeping on the wet ground.

Under Danea's ministrations, however, her hair gleamed even in the wane light, tumbling down her back in large, dark curls. Her garments were lovely, much as she hated to admit it.

Danea put down her comb and went to Persephone's closet, and Persephone took the opportunity to find her reflection in the stone mirror.

Danea had been right. She did look beautiful. The thought did not fill her with pride, but dread.

The hand-maiden had returned, holding before her a small, flat wooden box.

"Here, Lady." Danea tried to present it to her, but Persephone only gazed at it glumly.

"It is a wedding gift from your fiancé."

She'd realized that. Reluctantly, she took the box and undid its latch.

It was an amber necklace, the stones ranging from brilliant orange to deep blood red. Looking closer, Persephone realized that each stone held a tiny remnant of life within it, miniscule leaves, flowers, an ant here and there.

The forest. How she missed the forest. Tears again leaked down her cheeks. She wondered momentarily how she could possibly have any more tears to conjure up. Unexpectedly, she was moved.

The inner surface of the lid had an inscription.

These things were once beautiful in life, but in death, their value is even more apparent.

Persephone fastened the necklace around her throat, and went to meet her destiny.